


Call out to Your Brother, He's Calling out Your Name

by pale_morning_sings_of_forgotten_things



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Big Brothers, Blood, Brothers, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Good Regulus Black, Injury, Little Brothers, Protective Siblings, References to Frankenstein, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Feels, Regulus protects Sirius, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Sirius Black Needs a Hug, Sirius takes care of Regulus, Swearing, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Walburga Black is an absolute horror, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting, but only vaguely described, mentions of different Harry Potter characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24388420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pale_morning_sings_of_forgotten_things/pseuds/pale_morning_sings_of_forgotten_things
Summary: Regulus needs to do something. Or else he'll lose his brother.He can't just listen to the screams anymore.In which Regulus doesn't know how to save Sirius, but he tries his best.
Relationships: Regulus Black & Sirius Black
Comments: 34
Kudos: 333





	Call out to Your Brother, He's Calling out Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. We don't know much about Regulus Black from canon, or about his relationship with Sirius, so they could've been jerks to each other.
> 
> I like to think, however, that what went wrong between them was a lack of understanding, a distance created by the absence of talking to each other. Which in turn was most likely caused by their parents and their strict expectations; I don't think talking about your feelings was very valued in the Noble House of Black. 
> 
> So, I wanted to write something about a situation that would force Regulus and Sirius to talk to each other, and this is what came out on the other end. It's by no means perfect, and Walburga Black is absolutely terrible and it's quite dark so just a heads up about that. Also, similar things to this has been written before.
> 
> Either way, hope you enjoy it still lol

Regulus knows instantly what’s about to happen when he hears one of Sirius’ angry roars echoing through the house, closely followed by his mother’s screeching. With hands that are already starting to feel clammy, Regulus slowly closes the book he’s currently trying to read. He then pushes it up to the centre of his desk; it looks more neatly that way, and turns off the gaslight placed on the desktop. 

Then he stands up, on stiff legs that feel more like stilts than his own limbs. 

It’s now or never. 

For a long time, Regulus has thought about this. He’s dreamed about it, longed for the moment when he decides that he’s finally had enough. That he can’t ignore it anymore. 

But it’s hard. And he doesn’t know how to explain to a dumbly brave, reckless Gryffindor, that sometimes his body just freezes and he _can’t_ move. 

He knows Sirius is disappointed with him. Disappointed that he never does anything. Always complies, remaining quiet. They’ve drifted apart during last year, and Regulus knows that this is a big part of the problem. Just like Regulus knows that he is a people pleaser to a fault; just wanting to make everyone happy which is entirely impossible, he realises, when you have Orion and Walburga Black as parents and Sirius Black as your brother.

But today, he’s going to do something for his brother. Because he doesn’t want his lack of courage to get between Sirius and him. His inability to act can’t cost him his brother. He can’t ignore it anymore. He can’t pretend not to see, not to hear. 

He’ll lose Sirius. One day they’ll damage him beyond repair. And maybe it’s a little bit selfish as well, because Regulus doesn’t know how he’ll live, with the knowledge that he never tried to save his brother.

So he stands up and remains standing, even as he feels a tremble run down his spine. Determination settles into his mind and body, picking a fight with the numbing anxiety and for a moment, it has the upper hand and Regulus begins to move out of his room and down the stairs. 

_You need to hurry,_ the voice in the back of his head tells him. _Before it’s too late._

He hears their voices downstairs, on the bottom floor, getting louder. Loud enough to hear their exact words, if he would concentrate. But it doesn’t matter, he decides; it’s just the same as always. He’s heard them many times before, just put together a little differently, and sometimes replaced with synonyms bearing the same meaning. The message is the same as always though; hatred radiating off the both of them. 

After what feels like hours and a split second at the same time, Regulus softly sets down his foot on the first floor, and then the other. He moves quietly, just as always, and so neither Sirius or Walburga has noticed him in their red-faced, spluttering fury. Normally, they both manage to remain somewhat composed, both finding it important to appear cold, threatening and quite judging. They must’ve really gotten on each other’s nerves tonight, although Regulus has no idea of what the last straw was.

What’s important though, is that his mother hasn’t started hurting him yet, which is key because Regulus is of no use to Sirius if Walburga already is almost finished. 

He creeps closer, steps light while they scream insults at each other. There’s a sudden contempt clawing at his insides; Regulus is often criticised for being too quiet, too boring, too soft, but how is he supposed to get any oxygen or room, when the two of them are like this?

He shoves it away for now though. Those feelings will only make him lose sight of why he’s even here, in the first place. 

He’s by Sirius’ side now. His brother - much taller than him now as he’s grown 4 inches during the last year while Regulus grew practically none, and Sirius was taller to begin with - doesn’t notice him still, too busy trying to intimidate their mum. Regulus doesn’t think he succeeds, but he surely does intimidate _him_. 

“Mother,” Regulus speaks up then, because it’s now or never and he’s already started now, so there’s no going back. 

And he’s smart enough to know that this isn’t a good idea, and he really doesn’t have a clue of what he’s going but he has to do something and here he is. The only upside is that he thinks he’s already completed the hardest part which was going downstairs and grabbing their attention.

“Regulus, go back to your room,” Walburga spits back at him, never once taking her fiery dark eyes away from her eldest.

“Don’t hurt him,” Regulus goes on as if he hadn’t heard her, his voice much lower than the other two’s but at least it’s even still, and not wobbling like a scared 10-year-old’s. 

“Regulus, I told you-” she begins but never gets to finish because now things happen fast.

Sirius, all riled up and _angry_ and scared for his life, uses Regulus as a distraction and immediately reaches for his wand. Their mum is faster though, and sends a curse hurling towards Sirius before he manages to get it out, and before Regulus knows it he has stepped in front of Sirius. Just like that. He didn’t know that it was so easy.

As the force of the curse hits him, he falls towards the floor, but the pain it causes makes the moment his back connects with the carpet disappear into the intense, horrible feeling. 

His whole body convulses and shakes and it feels like he’s on fire. The metallic taste of blood reaches his mouth and he doesn’t know if a piece of his tongue is trapped between his gritted teeth or if it comes from within, but he sincerely hopes that it’s just him accidentally biting himself. 

The pain is worse than he expected. He feels himself losing his mind; the rest of the room floats away, he doesn’t hear Sirius’ screaming, he doesn’t feel the floor underneath him. 

His body just shakes as it feels like a hundred knives dig into his body; the ones in his back twisting around just a little extra. 

He’s unsure how much longer he can take this before his heart gives out or something, and just like that it stops. For a moment, Regulus can’t comprehend that it actually has. He blinks and stares up at the high and now spinning ceiling, letting out a shuddering breath as his body finally stops convulsing. 

Closing his eyes, he listens to his own heartbeat throbbing in his ears, so loud he almost doesn’t hear Sirius’ voice through it.

“Mum, _please stop!_ Stop it! I get it, we’ve learned our lesson, just please, _please_ , let him go.”

And then it starts again; all of his muscles instantly going tense as the pain — that never quite went away — comes back, worse than ever. 

This time Regulus passes out.

* * *

Regulus blinks, vaguely aware of his surroundings as they begin to fade in again. It’s all spinning, the floor he’s lying on seems tilted and for a moment Regulus is scared that he’s going to slip across it. He shudders at the thought of feeling the wounds on his back drag along the dark floorboards, and the hair on his arms stand on end.

“Reggie?” comes a high, shaky voice from somewhere above.

Regulus closes his eyes, trying to sort out his mind and put it back together. It names the voice _Sirius_ once it’s somewhat back in order. Enough to function a bit, at least.

He opens his eyes again, squinting slightly against the burn of them but he sees his brother nevertheless.

Sirius’ face is hovering over his; his long black hair almost reaching Regulus, eyes wide and glossy. Sirius’ hands on his face, clutching the sides of it tightly, Sirius’ voice calling his name, Sirius’ tears falling and landing on Regulus’ cheeks. 

Sirius’ hands moving through the air over Regulus’ body, unsure what to do, with a certain speed that tells Regulus that there’s no way that his mother had tortured him tonight. Which means that Regulus’ mission was somewhat successful. He would’ve liked to be able to move his body after it, but that’s just details. 

Regulus lets out a relieved sigh, letting his eyes drift close again. Sirius won’t quite let him, though.

“Regulus? Reg, _please_ wake up. It’s time to wake up… y-you need to wake up now.” He sounds far away but Regulus can still hear the tremble of his voice. 

He reluctantly opens his eyes again, and meets Sirius’. They are grey like his own, and so similar that it feels like looking into a mirror; at the mirrored image of a slightly older version of himself. 

Sirius’ face is streaky with glistening tracks left behind from tears. Regulus frowns; he had wanted to help Sirius, but now he feels like he’s made it worse, by how distraught his brother looks. 

“Regulus,” Sirius breathes, slowly running a thumb across Regulus’ cheek. “Reg, can you feel your legs? Or anything at all?”

Regulus thinks for a moment, his legs feel far, far away; like he’s forgotten that he had them. But he feels Sirius’ thumb and if he concentrates, he thinks he can wiggle his toes.

So he nods, tiredly bobbing his head; his hair catching on the carpet underneath as he does. 

“Oh, dear Merlin,” Sirius breathes, instantly lifting his hands to cover his own face as he lets out a shuddering breath.

Chilly air replaces Sirius’ hands on Regulus’ face and Regulus shivers again, suddenly feeling very cold and mourning the loss of Sirius’ hands resting on him. It's silly, but even though he managed to move his toes, he still doesn’t feel much and without Sirius’ hands to anchor him down, it just feels like he’s floating through the room that’s twisting around him. And the pain; the pain is returning to him. It let him have a few minutes after waking up, but now it returns full force. 

Or maybe it was there all the time and his mind was just too jumbled for him to notice it.

“Alright,” Sirius says at last, removing his hands from his face and reaching out for Regulus again. He huffs out a breath, as if to steel himself. “Okay, stop me if it hurts too much.”

Regulus nods again, before attempting to speak. “O-okay,” he ends up murmuring, through a raw and aching throat, his voice weak and broken. 

He feels utterly pathetic. Sirius must think he’s pathetic. How many times has his brother done this now? Probably too many times to count. Regulus has always known that he’s weaker than Sirius; both physically and mentally but it’s never been clearer to him than now. 

So he bites the insides of his cheeks, willing not to cry out as Sirius begins to arrange his limp legs and arms, even though it sometimes hurts so much that his vision begins to black out again. 

“Okay,” Sirius says again, appearing into Regulus’ field of vision once more as he leans over him. “I’m going to try to pull you up now.” 

And Regulus must’ve failed to keep his face straight for that one, letting it twitch, because Sirius looks even sadder.

“I’m sorry, Reggie, but I have to.”

Then he grabs Regulus’ thin shoulders, and slowly begins to pull him up; gently moving his hands around, placing them carefully on Regulus’ back where there aren’t any cuts. Regulus feels something running down his skin from his back, and he twists his eyes shut again, knowing what it is without seeing it. A throbbing ache is settling into his body now, accompanying the burning, piercing pain that comes once Sirius accidentally stretches the wrong muscle or the wrong part of his skin. 

After a few moments, Regulus’ body is aligned vertically instead of horizontally. Sirius tries to loosen his grip, but finds that Regulus just sinks towards the bloodstained carpet again. 

“Shit, you can’t stand at all,” Sirius mutters from somewhere above his head, mostly to himself but Regulus hears and feels like an utter disappointment because Sirius always managed to keep himself somewhat upright each time Regulus came to get him. “I’m gonna have to carry you. Let me know if it hurts too much and we’ll take a break.”

“Okay, Siri,” Regulus murmurs in response and Sirius nods, holding his grey gaze with his own for a moment before moving, taking his first step of many.

Sirius would’ve carried Regulus on his back, if he trusted Regulus’ arms to be able to hold him up. But considering that Regulus can’t stand up, Sirius knows better than to tell his brother to just hang on. If Regulus lost his grip and fell backwards down the stairs, then that would surely mean the end. 

Sirius shudders and feels the nausea that he felt when Regulus wouldn’t wake up return and he somewhat wants to throw up. He desperately tries to focus on the task ahead, what’s important; getting Regulus upstairs so that Sirius can clean his wounds and get him to bed, just like Regulus always does to him.

In the end, Sirius carries Regulus upstairs in his arms. It tugs on his back and the world spins even more. His vision goes dark again. 

Sirius sees his brother’s eyes roll back into his head and gulps, resisting the urge to hurry, because he knows that’ll only hurt more.

* * *

“Hey, Reggie,” Sirius murmurs, patting Regulus’ cheek again. 

Regulus groans — why can’t he just be left alone, to sleep — and then promptly gasps once the pain attacks him. 

It reminds him somewhat of a tiger, lurking in the bushes and waiting for the moment its prey least expects it to attack.

”What?” he forces out, his voice breathy.

“You’re still with me, good,” Sirius breathes and nods to himself. His eyes are bright; almost wild. Regulus knows it’s stress.

Regulus just hums into the familiar pillow. He’s lying on his stomach in his own bed now, and while the pain is still spectacularly present, the comfort of being in his own room wraps around him like a soft blanket. 

Meanwhile, Sirius crouches to the floor and rummages through all the stuff Regulus has hidden under his bed. 

“Where-” Sirius begins, his voice sounding strained, but Regulus interrupts him, knowing what he’s about to ask.

“Towards the back, closest to the wall,” he mutters, letting his eyes flutter shut and scrunching up his nose.

Regulus wills his brother to find the healing kit quickly. The scraping noises make his head hurt; accompanied by the occasional thud as one of Regulus’ stacks of books fall over, the spines of the heavy books hit the floorboard. Sirius swears, but seems to be successful, because his stressed movements still and he disappears, ducking under the bed to bring something out. 

“There you are,” Sirius speaks to the box of potions and balms as if it hears him. “Thank Merlin.”

Regulus grits his teeth again, another wave of pain hitting him. It fades in and out like the waves of the ocean — pulsating — varying from a moderate pain that stays in the background of his mind and focus, to an all-consuming excruciating one that forces him to pay attention to it and nothing else.

Sirius’ hands shake slightly, as they look through the box, wondering where to start. 

“Fuck, Reggie, you’re the one that’s good at this,” Sirius complains, sounding like he’s on the verge of having a breakdown, but tries to carry on bravely because that’s just what Sirius does. 

Regulus accidentally lets out a low whine into the pillow once the pain gets particularly bad and Sirius winces. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says, speeding up and fiddling a little with a potion — a painkiller one — but gets it open. “Reg, you need to drink this.”

Regulus can’t move still, so Sirius guides the potion to his mouth, holding his head up with a hand under it, helping him drink.

It’s been a long time since he drank that particular one, but it still tastes like shit; he even nearly chokes on it. How does Sirius do it; that is the real question.

“Thank you,” Regulus murmurs once he feels the pain subsiding, at least slightly. 

Even if it doesn’t go away more than this, Regulus will take it. Anything that means less pain is bliss.

“Don’t thank me yet, Reggie,” Sirius replies and maybe it’s meant to be a little teasing, but he mostly sounds scared. 

Regulus notices that his eyes are growing glossy again, and his heart clenches as he feels guilty. He hadn’t meant to cause Sirius _this_ much stress. In fact, he hadn’t expected him to be this worried _at all_. Sure, Sirius is still his brother, but they don’t talk that much anymore; Sirius avoids him like the rest of their family and Regulus is quite happy _not_ having to hear about James Potter and the rest of his little gang. He doesn’t want to be indirectly told that he is Sirius’ worst brother, especially considering that he is Sirius' only _real_ brother. He misses Sirius a lot though, and regrets that that is the truth. 

Regulus tries to push the thoughts away, because he isn’t sure the persistent lump in his stomach — that always makes its presence known when he thinks about these things — is better than the piercing, throbbing pain in his limbs and back.

Although they both hurt; it’s two different things entirely. 

He decides to concentrate on watching his brother again. Somehow it’s quite calming — in a quite morbid way — watching him fiddle with the bottles and pots that Regulus has organised pretty beautifully, if he might say so himself.

Sirius finds the balm Regulus always uses for him; one that helps the body heal the wounds itself. Then the elder of the two crawls closer to the younger’s bedside and starts applying it, carefully. Sirius takes his time, making sure that he’s covering everything evenly, but he looks exceptionally pale and his nose is scrunched. Although Sirius already said so, it’s just now that Regulus’ jumbled mind remembers that Sirius doesn’t have much experience with this. It’s always him that’s hurt and he always goes to Regulus for help. And Regulus has done this for years, learning in a young age to take care of injuries. 

Sirius has apparently paid attention, but still looks very unsure and very disturbed by the sight in front of him. Regulus hasn’t seen his own back, but he suspects it looks a little like Sirius’ of does; slashes across it and blood everywhere. 

He shivers at the thought, which Sirius seems to notice. 

“Promise me you won’t do this again, Reggie,” Sirius says somewhat sternly, his voice quiet and with no trace of the humour it always has otherwise. The tears rolling down his pale cheeks enhances the effect too. Regulus’ heart aches. “Please, I don’t ever want to see you like this again.”

Regulus feels a little uncomfortable, seeing his brother so openly crying. Sirius very rarely cries. But he guesses that a good thing about this — a very minuscule, but still important thing — is that Sirius can’t have alienated him too much if he lets the tears slip down his pale face in front of him.

Regulus also can’t believe that _he_ hasn’t cried yet. He’s probably just shocked.

“But—” Regulus begins, voice very hoarse still.

“Not ever.”

“But I just wanted to do something,” Regulus whispers sadly. 

He can do no right. He has no idea what to do about this situation. He’s an absolute disappointment, he realises. Went ahead and made things worse, that’s what he did, blinded by guilt and reckless bravery. He wonders how Sirius, brave as his brother is, manages to be even somewhat successful. 

It’s just horrible. All of it. He wishes it could end, that his mother, his parents could stop. He doesn’t want to see Sirius hurt again just like Sirius doesn’t want to see Regulus hurt again. 

“I thought you wanted me to do something,” Regulus murmurs again, and more heavy tears escape Sirius’ eyes, to his horror.

“I thought so too. But I’m an idiot,” Sirius replies, sounding strangled and struggling to meet Regulus’ eyes. Regulus often struggles to meet _anyone’s_ eyes and he’s never noticed how obvious it is, when someone doesn’t, until now. “Mother never punished me today because she thought, judging by my reaction, that seeing you get tortured was worse. I think you’ve given her ideas, now.”

Regulus cringes at the thought. So much for Slytherin resourcefulness and self-preservation. Now he’s a disappointment to his house too. He resists the urge to sigh loudly. 

Just when Sirius is screwing on the lid of the balm, Regulus’ arm suddenly twitches violently, curling and bending against his will. 

His eyes dart to Sirius, and Sirius finally meets his eyes. Sirius looks a little sad, but there’s definite relief there too.

“That’s a good sign,” the older brother murmurs. 

Regulus nods, swallowing, staring at his arm that moves outside of his will with a pale face. _A good sign_ , he reminds himself as the muscles move under his skin like they aren’t his own, as his arm is stuck in such an unnatural position.

He doesn’t breathe until it relaxes again and he can move it, pulling it into his chest and holding it close. 

* * *

Sirius stays in Regulus’ room for the night. Walburga might kill one of them, or both, if she finds out, but they’ve locked the door with three layers of spells, put a _muffliato_ over the room and asked Kreacher to alert them when either of their parents woke up. Kreacher had looked unsure; the house elf has never liked Sirius much, but luckily his adoration for Regulus is greater than his distaste for the elder brother and fear of Orion and Walburga and he agrees. 

Sirius can’t help but to think that yes, _maybe_ it is _a little_ sweet. Maybe the house elf isn’t _all_ bad. 

Sirius keeps an eye on Regulus, making sure that he doesn’t accidentally roll over in his sleep, making the nasty, deep cuts connect with the mattress, and generally being a comfort like Regulus often is for Sirius. Or at least used to be.

It’s just that Regulus doesn’t sleep. Sirius stays quiet for a long time, but Regulus has always been better at being quiet than Sirius and if Regulus isn’t going to sleep, then he might as well fill the time with talking. They’d already talked more just in this night than this past week anyway. 

“You know,” Sirius begins, his voice sounding a little wonky from crying and then not saying anything for what felt like an hour. He clears his throat before going on. “This isn’t much better than actually being hurt.”

What he means is that _‘your role, Regulus; it’s not better than mine’._

Regulus just hums in agreement. He knows now too; being abused made him pass out, made his muscles spasm and caused him the worst physical pain of his life. But being the one _not_ abused comes with stress, anxiety, immense guilt and all consuming worry. They’re just two different versions of evil. 

“I’m sorry for giving you so much shit,” Sirius says then, when he doesn’t get much more answer out of Regulus. 

_That_ does alert Regulus though and he jerkily lifts his head off the pillow, staring at his older brother, who lies on his back next to him, intently watching the ceiling. 

“Sirius, you were abused. You _are abused._ You’re allowed to be angry and not think straight. Merlin, I still feel like my brain is downstairs chilling on the carpet,” Regulus replies passionately. 

“When did you start to sound so old?” Sirius asks, his eyes soft from Regulus’ words as he turns them to Regulus. 

“You’ve always said that I’m like _‘an old, miserable grandpa that complains about happy kids’,_ so it’s since birth, I guess,” Regulus replies somewhat sourly, letting the side of his face sink into the pillow again, and Sirius can’t help but to smile a little. 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Sirius murmurs, a little amused, looking at Regulus now, realising with content that his face has a little more colour in it now. “ _Wise_ , then.”

Regulus is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t think of himself as very wise. “I don’t know.”

“A mystery, then,” Sirius summarises and he does sound happier despite the situation. 

It's just that hearing from Regulus that he understands why Sirius often is angry and snappy is a considerate relief. Of course, it’s still not very nice and he makes a mental note to try his very best to not take any of it out on Regulus next time. He knows now that it wouldn’t be better in any way if Regulus was the one getting hurt instead, the one lying on the floor at the end of mother’s sharp wand. 

If it is a next time.

Sirius swallows. He needs to tell him. 

He’s been thinking of telling him, he really _should_ tell him. 

He just hasn’t known how, and he’s been scared of how Regulus will react. Scared that Regulus won’t take his side. Scared that Regulus will think that he’s giving up. 

And if… _when_ he says it, it’ll feel a lot more real. Then he has to do it, which is scary.

But maybe this is the push that he needs. 

“I’ve been thinking about leaving,” he blurts out, looking at the ceiling once more, clammy hands clutching each other tightly, trying to appear casual where they’re resting on his chest.

Regulus tenses beside him, in a way Sirius knows would hurt a lot in his current state. Sirius tries not to wince.

_“Leaving?”_ Regulus echoes, his voice small. 

“Yeah. I can’t stay,” Sirius goes on quietly, because he can’t stop now. 

Maybe the part where everything started going wrong between him and his brother was the part where they stopped talking to each other. Like really _talking_ ; when you tell each other what you’re _really_ thinking about, and not just snapping at each other when you meet in the corridors of Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts.

He decides to give talking a chance. 

“They’ll either kill me or turn me into a monster,” Sirius finishes gravely. He doesn’t believe for a second that this is not the truth. 

There’s a moment of silence before Regulus speaks up and Sirius’ eyes can’t help but to travel from the ceiling to his little brother, trying to see his reaction through the dim lightning.

“I don’t think they will succeed with that,” Regulus says after a while, matter-of-factly. Like he hadn’t heard the part about leaving home and focused on Sirius’ later statement. When he continues, his voice has shifted into something that’s supposed to be light-hearted. “I think I have a higher probability of turning out like _Frankenstein_ , if anything, so don’t try and take that away from me.”

“Frankenstein?” Sirius echoes, frowning. He’s forgotten about the ceiling now and has fully turned his head towards Regulus, looking intently at his brother that never stops surprising him. 

“I thought you were supposed to know muggle things. But I guess I should’ve expected that you wouldn’t read anything,” Regulus teases and Sirius thinks he can see the hint of an amused smirk playing on his lips through the darkness, but he isn’t sure. 

“What is it then?” Sirius questions, a little impatiently as he squints his eyes at the youngest Black.

“It’s a book,” he begins easily, _softly_. “A book in which a scientist creates a monster. The monster tries to be good but everyone thinks it’s a monster still and treats it unkindly. That makes the monster become just that, and it tries to seek revenge. I think… I think the deeper meaning is that the monster isn’t born but created, because even though it always looked like a monster, it wasn’t truly one, until it began being treated as such. It’s not a fun story.”

Sirius is quiet for a moment. Regulus had said that _he has a high probability of turning into this._ He swallows uncomfortably. 

“I’m not going to let you become a Frankenstein,” Sirius replies quietly, but there’s a fire behind his words, a determined one. 

Regulus laughs, “Frankenstein is the scientist’s name not the monster. A common misconception.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean. I’m trying to say something deep and profound here, and you make fun of me just because I don’t read _muggle fiction,”_ Sirius replies grumpily but passionately, his voice louder this time. 

Regulus just smiles, and shakes his head. Sirius frowns. 

He’s worried, and he still hasn’t gotten any answer regarding the first statement. Regulus may be shy and an introvert but he sure is a quite talented conversationalist because he’s managed to smoothly avoid that part. 

“Reg, I want to leave but I don’t want to leave you here, alone with them,” Sirius pushes, and he can’t quite keep his tone from sounding strangled as horrible images similar to the ones he’s seen today flood his mind. 

“I don’t think the both of us leaving is such a good idea,” Regulus says calmly and it bothers Sirius, but Regulus has always been like this. 

When Sirius flares with emotion, Regulus has always managed to stay cool, even _emotionless_ at times, and it’s slightly terrifying but it is a coping mechanism, a way for Regulus to protect himself. It’s a result of living with Walburga and Orion and for a second Sirius wonders what their relationship would’ve been like if they hadn’t been born into the noble house of Black. Closer, Sirius would like to think. 

And that is why he can’t let Regulus go that easily. 

“What? You want to stay, is that it?” Sirius asks a little harshly but he’s angry, scared, stressed, anxious. 

Angry at their parents and the possibility of Regulus staying with them. Scared of what will happen if he does. Stressed still after what happened, his hands still shaking, hands that would be covered in Regulus’ blood, had he not done a cleaning charm. Anxious, because this is exactly the sort of answer he had feared.

“No, not at all, but do you understand the lengths our parents will go to if both the heir _and_ the spare run away?” Regulus replies, a little more emotionally now, and _spare_ , Sirius hates that word.

Maybe even more than he hates the word _heir_.

“Regulus, we’ve been over this, you are _not_ my spare—”

“To dear mum and dad I am. But it doesn’t matter, you’re the one missing the point now,” Regulus says and Sirius knows he’s right. 

“I know,” Sirius sighs. “But we’ll figure it out, alright? Our family isn’t the only powerful one. I like to think I have friends in high places.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. 

“The Potters for one—” Sirius begins, taking this opportunity to go on while Regulus is quiet and not taking apart his plan with his harsh reminders of the reality and pessimistic outlook on, well, everything. 

“Our family will slaughter the Potters,” Regulus says hollowly and there it is. 

“You underestimate them,” Sirius shoots back and he’s not lying. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter are impressive wizards. “But there’s also Alphard, there’s cousin Dromeda, there’s McGonagall, I’m sure Dumbledore would help too. There’s options, Regulus. I’m of age in less than a year too.”

“This is such a bad idea,” Regulus states in lack of other responses, which means that he knows too that Sirius’ plan _isn’t_ full of holes. 

“Regulus, you can’t save everyone and everything at the same time. I know there’s a lot of problems ahead but if our parents kill me and turn you into the monster, then all we’ve done is lost. At least this way, we’ll have a chance,” Sirius explains and it comes straight from his heart. 

He looks pleadingly at Regulus. _Please_.

Regulus gives him a long look in return; steel grey on steel grey. “Fine, then.”

Sirius gapes at first but upon realising what he’s doing and smiles widely instead. It falters when Regulus’ arms twitch violently.

“I thought she killed you for a moment there,” Sirius tells his brother and instantly the burning lump in his throat is back and his eyes burn as he remembers Regulus, pale, still and bloodied on the carpet. 

“That’s what I think once a week, when it’s you, instead,” Regulus replies truthfully and Sirius feels shivers running down his back. 

There’s some shuffling and it takes Sirius a moment because of the darkness and the distraction the images of an unconscious Regulus that plays over and over in Sirius’ mind cause, but then he realises that it’s Regulus trying to move his arm. 

That he’s reaching for Sirius. 

Sirius instantly grabs his hand, holding it securely and Regulus gives him a weak squeeze.

“Let’s make sure that this was the last time,” Sirius murmurs, and Regulus nods. 

Sirius’ heart clenches; feeling the protectiveness over Regulus course through his body like it used to, when they were young. Feeling the relief that Regulus is with him and not against. That he won’t be doing this alone. 

“Now, sleep. I can’t believe you’re still awake,” Sirius then says sternly and Regulus huffs in response but doesn’t protest.

Sirius smiles, squeezing Regulus' hand harder. Neither of them let go, and it doesn’t take long until Regulus is asleep, snoring softly. He twitches every now and then and Sirius almost wants to cry again, especially when Regulus squeezes Sirius’ hand in his sleep.

Sirius lies awake though. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep for a while after what he saw today. 

_He pats Regulus’ cheek but his younger brother remains unresponsive, his head just lolling to the side, skin pale and scattered with flecks of red, red, red blood, and no, no, no he can’t lose his little brother._

He cringes and shakes his head to somehow get rid of the memories. Instead he concentrates on making sure that Regulus doesn’t roll over onto the wounds, and planning. 

Mostly planning. He’s going to get them out of here, if it so is the last thing that he does. This is never going to happen again. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of semi finished fics featuring Regulus and Sirius Black which I hope to finish soon (this is just a drabble, in the grand scheme of things), so if anyone's interested, that's some good news for you. Just need to power through the last few days of this semester at uni and I'll get right to 'em.


End file.
